smoothly. Next she engages the transmission by shifting it into “reverse,” and backs up a few feet, then forward. She shrugs, shakes her head, shuts the engine off, restarts it, revs the motor for a few more seconds, then shuts it off again and gets out of the car.
When Linda is back inside the shop she walks over to her mother, “Mom, the car is fine. I thought you said it broke down.”
“No, no, I said it wouldn’t go.”
“Well it started just fine for me, so there’s no problem. Here’s your keys.” Linda hands the keys back, leaves the building and heads for her car. She stops when she hears a familiar voice calling her, only this time it is tinged with desperation. “Linda, please. Wait! Help me.”
“But I just tried it and the car is fine.”
“But Linda, maybe I’m not fine. I didn’t say the car wouldn’t start. I sat in it and I couldn’t make it go. I was sitting there and I couldn’t remember where I was going or even how to make the car move. Can you help me, please?”
For an instant Linda is at a loss for how to respond. During all of the preceding years her mother has always been a forceful presence, always self-assured and determined. This new version of mom, a frightened apparition, the ghost of the strong female who had always dominated every person she was in contact with is unsettling. For several moments Linda stands in the parking lot watching her mother’s perplexed expression, anxiously wondering just what she should do. Finally she takes her mother by the hand, leads her to her car and assists her getting into the passenger seat. “I’ll take you home, and then bring Dad back to get your car.”
It is the scenario every adult child dreads: when parent and child exchange roles. For Linda it is particularly agonizing. During the five minute ride Linda is shocked at the silence. Her normally gregarious, talkative parent doesn’t utter one word until she sees her own house as they pull into the driveway. “Goodness,” she then exclaims, “I think it must be time to get dinner started.”
While driving her dad back to the shop to fetch the car, Linda expresses her concerns. “I think you need to get Mom to a doctor, Dad. I don’t know what’s going on, but she may have had a small stroke or it may be a deteriorating mental condition. This could be a signal that something is seriously wrong.”
Linda’s father shakes his head. “Look, your mom goes to the doctor more than any woman her age. She’s sees her doctor at least once a week, and he says she’s fine. Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just a little high strung. She’s fine. Really, she’s fine. Everything will be okay.”
When they get back to the house, Linda watches her mother fixing dinner and for a short while the older woman appears to be functioning. Linda, still apprehensive, bids her parents good-bye.
During the traffic-infested journey from her parents’ home, Linda uses her cell phone to discuss her concerns about her mother with her younger sister. “It was so weird. I mean, you know how Mom usually acts. I don’t ever remember her asking for help from anybody. She always tells everybody else how it’s going to be. She never asks for help, and today she was almost begging me.”
Her sister is startled. “That definitely doesn’t sound like Mom.”
“She knew there was something wrong with her, at least at that moment. Later, once she was in the kitchen fixing dinner, she seemed normal. But I’m telling you, when she realized she’d forgotten how to drive, she was asking me for help. I was blown away. And when I told Dad about it, he just laughed it off. He says she’s just fine. He thinks it was just a little stress. What do you think? You’ve had a lot more contact with her than I have the last few years. Have you noticed her acting strangely?”
“Well she seems focused on the long ago past. She’s been talking a lot about her growing up years—a lot of stories about the farm, her nine brothers and sisters and meeting Dad. I have noticed that lately.”
“She’s past seventy now, and a lot of diseases like Alzheimer’s kick in then. Sis, somebody needs to get hold of her doctor and talk with him. I mean, if she had some sort of stroke, it needs to be checked out. Something needs to be done here.”
“What makes you think it’s so alarming?”
“Remember Aunt Betty? Well, you were pretty young, but she had a small stroke and it became the starting point for the big decline for her. She went through several episodes of wigging out and it got worse and worse. They finally had to put her in some nursing home and she didn’t last very long there at all. I’m telling you, this could be serious. Something has to be done and you should do it. You’ve always been closer to her than me.”
“It should be up to Dad, shouldn’t it?” her sister asks.
“I don’t think he can make the call to her doctor and get the ball rolling.” Linda waits for her sister to reply.
“You’re the firstborn child Linda, you do it. Besides, you were the one she called when she thought she needed help.”
For a few moments neither sister comments, both reflecting on the issue. Eventually, Linda’s sister consents to telephoning the doctor.
When she finally arrives home, Linda looks for Philip and as usual, he is in his editing suite manipulating video images. When he notices her, he pauses the machine, stands and embraces her. “No tragedies while you were gone. I took one call on your business line. It was from Barnett. He said not to worry about the Espinoza trial after all. He’s pleading out. Did you get your mother’s car fixed?”
Linda sighs, “There was nothing wrong with her car. She couldn’t remember how to drive, and she has been driving for more than fifty years.”
“That sounds like a job for her doctor, not you.”
Linda bites her lip and then goes on. “That’s the next step. Sis is calling about an evaluation.”
Philip looks pensively at his wife and decides to say nothing, seeing the conflicted emotions play plainly on her face.
Linda sighs heavily, “I need to get back to the search for Ashley.”
The FBI task force watches Lori Pond and her boyfriend, Dave Roberts, all day on March 1, trying to find out whether they were involved in Ashley’s disappearance.4 The date would have been the girl’s thirteenth birthday.5 The couple lead the police to a birthday gathering the family holds as a remembrance.
When Linda finds out, her comment to Allison is abrupt. “Well, at least they are looking, even if it is right out of the manual. They haven’t given up on her. But most of them still think she’s hiding out somewhere. I’m not so sure.”
The campaign to secure inpatient evaluation for their mother consumes a tremendous amount of Linda’s sister’s time the next ten days, mainly because she has to find a facility within modest driving distance from her parents’ Hillsboro home. Their dad is firm on that requirement, because he will be making many visits to his wife and feels ill equipped to drive great distances because of his advancing age. Finally a bed becomes available at Forest Grove Hospital six miles away. Resistive at first, their mother eventually acquiesces because the hospital stay will help soothe all the family’s anxiety. She’s checked in on a Monday afternoon by her two daughters and their dad, each of whom commits to a visitation regimen. Dad will come every morning and every evening. The sisters will pop in whenever their schedules permit.
On
